


Best Friend for Life

by orangecreamsicle



Series: Dorks in Love [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build, i gueeeeesss, rating will change when appropriate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangecreamsicle/pseuds/orangecreamsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco had been in love with his best friend Jean since forever.  They’d known each other almost all their lives, but Jean has never seen him as more than just his best friend.  Will that ever change or will he be forever friend-zoned?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Make you my friend

**Author's Note:**

> So...apparently I can't do a one shot of anything. smh  
> This won't be as long as the main story, but I hope it will still be ok.

* * *

 

 

Marco had been in love with his best friend Jean since forever.  They’d known each other almost all their lives.  He still remembered when he first saw the shy pudgy kid with hair the color of hay. 

It was October of fifth grade and they were already well into the second month of school.  Jean had just moved to their city from a whole different state.  He’d lived in a big city, one that was near the ocean, something which a young Marco could not even imagine since he and all the other kids in his school were local and had lived there their whole lives.  He had been introduced by the teacher and glared at them all when he’d said his ‘hello’.  Despite the hostility in his demeanor, Marco had noticed the hint of fear he was so desperately trying to hide in his large amber eyes.

Due to the fact that children were mean and Jean was really self-conscious, he mostly kept to himself.  Aside from curious questions about his former state of residence, the other children didn’t really make any effort to befriend him.  They thoughtlessly asked him why he was fat, being oblivious to his feelings in that way that kids often are.  Jean put on a tough guy attitude, pretending he didn’t care. 

“It’s just baby-fat,” he huffed defensively.  “My parents said I would outgrow it.  And I will!  So just _be quiet!”_

He sat at the back corner of the class, never taking the initiative to speak to anyone, even after a few weeks. He’d always eat lunch alone in the same manner, sitting in the corner of the cafeteria discouraging anyone from even getting near him.  Marco couldn’t imagine someone not wanting to have friends so he took it upon himself to get to know the new kid.

It was easier said than done, though, since Marco himself was really shy.  His only opportunity was lunchtime since Jean was always dropped off and picked up from school by his nanny, no exceptions.  Jean’s family was well off and lived in a large two story house on the outskirts of the city.  The only reason he was even in public school was because the nearest private school had a waiting list and his family didn’t have enough influence in their new city of residence to pull any strings.

He approached Jean’s table and set his tray down slowly, watching Jean the whole time in case he would explode and yell at him to sit somewhere else.

“What do _you_ want, freckle face?” he muttered gloomily, not even bothering to make eye contact.

Marco chuckled nervously, not really knowing what to say.  It’s not like he wasn’t constantly being made of for his freckles either.  At least Jean didn’t seem angry.

“What’s so funny?” Jean asked, eyeing him like he was out of his mind.

“I guess I do look pretty weird with so many freckles, huh?” he said simply, smiling out of habit.

 Jean scrunched his face up in confusion as though he hadn’t been expecting that kind of an answer. 

“Will it make you angry if I sit here?” Marco asked, biting his lower lip with uncertainty.

Jean’s eyes widened for a moment, but then his face gradually relaxed in to a cocky smirk.   That’s the first time Marco remembered seeing him that way and he would never forget it.

“I guess that depends on you,” he answered slyly.  “Don’t do anything stupid and I _probably_ won’t get angry.”

“Ok!” Marco beamed sitting down immediately to Jean’s apparent surprise. 

They ate together mostly in silence, Jean flushing slightly because the other kids were making mean comments about them and sending mocking glances their way.  He glared back at them, daring them to come over and say something to his face.  Marco noticed too, but he didn’t care.  He knew every single one of these kids personally and therefore was immune to anything they might say.  Eventually the novelty of Jean being the new kid would pass, and once they got tired of making fun of him he’d blend in just like everyone else.

After a couple of days of the same thing, Marco coming by and silently sitting next to him at lunchtime, Jean’s patience seemed to wear thin.

“How come you always sit here with me, but you never say anything?”

Marco lowered his gaze to his food, fidgeting with his fork. 

“Did you lose a bet or something?” Jean prodded, his brows furrowed in anger.  “Is that the only reason you're doing this?”

“No,” he said quietly, his face flushing.  “I guess… I guess I don’t say anything because there’s really nothing interesting for me to say to you.  You’re from a big fancy city near the ocean.  Everything here must be really boring to you.  So I don’t want to bother you with it.”

“Oh,” Jean said simply.  Then he smiled widely.  “That’s actually kind of true.”

Marco smiled back, his nervousness slowly slipping away. 

“What’s it like to live in a big city?”

“Crowded,” Jean sighed.  “There’s so many people and cars everywhere, it makes you dizzy.”

Marco’s eyes got larger with interest.  He couldn’t imagine anything crowded.  Their city population was near five thousand, and that was being generous.  The most people he ever saw together in one place besides school was church every Sunday.  But he knew them all, so it wasn’t bad.  When he told Jean as much, the tawny haired kid laughed like a maniac.

“You’re not kidding.  This place is almost a ghost town.  In the city there are so many people, it’s impossible for you to know them all.  Everyone is always in a hurry too, and every street looks almost the same.  If you’re not careful, you could get really lost.”

“Sounds awful,” Marco frowned, his eyes full of fear. 

Jean laughed.  Full belly laughed, and it made Marco feel warm inside.

“You get used to it,” he said with a bit of arrogance.

“If you say so,” Marco said teasingly.

He got nervous all over again when he noticed Jean was gazing him with hesitation.  Had he done something wrong?  He was just about to ask, when Jean suddenly blurted out.

“Hey, do you want to come over to my house after school?”

Marco almost choked on his mac and cheese.  They’d just starting speaking and he was already inviting him over?  He honestly didn’t think things would progress this fast.

“That sounds like fun,” he started, but then hesitated.  “But I’d have to ask my mom first.”

Jean was suddenly glaring at him.  Marco swallowed, not sure why he’d be angry all of a sudden.

“Do you think she’d say no?  Is it because of my parents?”

“What?  N-no!” Marco exclaimed with surprise.

“Well, then what?”

“Well, it’s just that I know you get picked up…” he trailed off, hoping it was self-explanatory.  It wasn’t.

“So what?”

“So…” he rolled his eyes.  “I’d have to walk home and ask her first.  You’d already be gone, right?”

Jean thought about this for a minute.

“What if we gave you a ride home?” he asked earnestly.  “Then you could ask her and we could leave from there.”

Marco wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, but Jean made it sound like it was perfectly fine.

“Would your…um- driver really be okay with that?”  He’d hesitated to say 'nanny' because he wasn’t sure if Jean would be offended by it.

“Pfft!” Jean waved dismissively.  “Like she has a choice!  We usually just go straight home because I ask her to.”

_Oh, so it’s like that_ , Marco thought.

“Well, if that’s ok, then sure!” he smiled brightly.

Jean smiled back at him with barely contained enthusiasm. 

“We’ll have so much fun Marco!  You’ll see!”

 

* * *

 


	2. Meet your mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet each other's moms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more like a continuation of last chapter.

* * *

 

Although he didn’t really think about it in his excitement of being invited over to Jean’s, during the car ride Marco started to worry what he might think of their small house.  He’d heard Jean’s house was a two story mansion sitting near the woods on a huge lot of land complete with fancy gardens and a swimming pool.  Marco’s family lived in a small three bedroom townhouse they rented which barely had a yard to speak of.  Jean didn’t seem to notice or care as they approached though.  He was going on and on excitedly of all the games they could play and all the movies they could watch once they got to his house.  He paused occasionally to ask Marco questions about his own games and high fived him when he realized they liked the same ones. 

When they got to Marco’s house, the two kids ran in the door searching out for Marcos’ mom and found her in the laundry room folding clothes.

“Hi mom,” Marco greeted as soon he caught her eye. 

“Hey baby,” she said warmly, then her eyes crinkled and her smile widened when she saw he had a friend along with him.  “Well hello there.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Bodt,” Jean greeted with a large smile.  “My name’s Jean.  I’m Marco’s friend from school.”

“Wow,” she chuckled.  “Such nice manners.  What are you boys up to?”

Marco fidgeted nervously.

“Jean invited me to play over at his house,” he said hurriedly.  “Can I mom?  Pleeeaase???”

“Well that depends, honey-” she started then faltered when Jean cut in impatiently.

“We can drive him there and bring him back,” it was like he was negotiating the terms of a deal.  Marco stared at him with wide eyes.  “I promise he’ll be home at whatever time you say, ma’m.  And I won’t let him spoil his appetite for dinner either.  Please?”

Marco’s mom burst out into laughter because Jean started out so confident and then ended with a pleading puppy dog expression.  Marco smiled at Jean.  This was a good sign, his mom usually went into her stern-faced lecturing mode when she was going to say no.

“Fine,” she said through gasps of breath.  “If you can give me your parents’ names and phone number in case I need to get a hold of Marco, then he can go.”

Both the boys jumped and hollered at their victory.  Marco brought Jean a pen and paper so he could write down his information.  When he gave it to Marco’s mom she clasped his wrist first and looked him straight in the eye before taking the piece of paper.

“You drive a hard bargain, mister Jean,” she said narrowing her eyes at him, but smiling nonetheless.  “I expect you to be a man of your word and take good care of my son, do you hear?”

“Yes, ma’m!” Jean exclaimed so dutifully it made Marco roll his eyes.  So Jean was a little bit of a drama queen.  He sighed softly reminding himself that no one was perfect.

Mrs. Bodt did a double take when she read Jean’s paper and realized who his parents were.  She didn’t make a bid deal about it, though.  She knew it would probably make the two boys uncomfortable.

 

\---

 

When they got to Jean’s house, Marco’s jaw dropped in awe.  Everything that had been said was absolutely true and he was extremely intimidated.  Jean noticed his uneasiness and told him not to worry about it, that it wasn’t a big deal. 

_Easy for you to say_ , Marco thought as he continued to chew on his lower lip with nervousness as they stepped in.   They went straight to the kitchen where Jean’s mom was already fixing dinner.  It looked like she had prepared a shepherd’s pie and was sticking in the oven to bake.  Marco was a little surprised; he’d kind of expected they’d have a chef or something equally as stuck up as people with money tend to have.  He was definitely feeling like he’d fallen into the twilight zone when he met his new friend’s mother.

“Hi mom!” Jean greeted excitedly.

“Hey!” she smiled when she saw him.  “You’re a little late today aren’t you pumpkin?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he blushed slightly.  Marco’s eyes widened seeing his new friend’s cheeks get rosy.  Jean was such a tough guy at school he never thought he’d ever see something like this.  He mentally filed the moment away, determined to always remember this as well.  “This is my friend Marco,” he said motioning to where he was currently standing in the kitchen doorway.  Marco smiled and gave a small awkward wave.  “He’s got tons of freckles mom!”

Marco stiffened, his jaw dropping from the shock.  Why did he have to say _that?!_

“Does he now?” Jean’s mom laughed good naturedly.  To Marco’s horror she came up to him looking directly in his face to see for herself that Jean’s claim was true.  Marco cringed under the scrutiny, feeling helpless to do anything about it but stand there and let it happen.  “No need to be so nervous dear, we won’t bite,” she said softly.  Then she added more loudly so Jean could hear, “those are some mighty fine freckles you have there.  I hope being the bearer of such cute skin decorations isn’t giving you a big head.”

Now it was Marco’s turn to blush.  Cute skin decorations?  No one had ever called his freckles cute.  He’d always been told they were either freakish, weird or ugly.  He could only stare at her in wonder.  This wasn’t what he was expecting for a rich boy’s mom at all.  She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair.

He was sure he heard her say something to Jean about how cute and shy he was, which made him blush even harder.  Luckily for him Jean grabbed him by the arm and led him up to his room where they proceeded to go through his video game collection, deciding which ones they were going to play and in what order.

That afternoon they played video games and chatted about everything they could possibly think of to get to know each other. 

 

\---

Despite his shyness, Marco found he could relax and be himself around Jean.  Likewise, he found Jean’s hostility was never directed at him.  Though Marco did have other friends, none of them were as close to him as Jean.  Jean’s parents ended up keeping him at the public school because they liked the calming influence Marco had over him.  Jean eventually did make other friends as well, but he always made Marco his number one priority. 

The two became inseparable spending all their free time together, staying over at each other’s houses more often than not.  The only times they were apart were holidays and summertime when Jean’s family would go on their annual vacation.  They’d be gone for an entire two months and Marco found himself hating summer more and more with each passing year.  Though his own parents signed him up for camp and other activities, it wasn’t the same.  He missed his best friend and nothing could distract him from it, nothing could take his mind off his loneliness.

Summer.  Marco dreaded the word.  It was funny how things changed like that.  He used to look forward to it.  No school, waking up late, long lazy days, fun times and fireworks by the lake.  Now?  Now he found summer to be the gloomiest time of the year without Jean.  He started to feel glum around Memorial Day in May knowing it was the so called official start of summer and what that meant. 

The only thing that made it bearable is that he knew when it was over Jean would come back and they’d spend hours and hours telling each other about their vacations, sharing photos and picking up where they left off without missing a beat.  Marco found himself secretly looking forward to when they became adults.  Then they could spend summers together all they wanted, no one would be able to tell them what to do or keep them apart.  It didn’t occur to him at first to question whether Jean would want the same thing for their future or not.  He just assumed he would because they were best friends. 

It was only natural right?

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Already working on Chapter 3. Whew...


	3. Adolescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's life takes an unexpected turn, and he may never get over it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't the beginning of this story all cute and whatnot? Well... we're done with that now.
> 
> Shanks you and twists knife.

 

* * *

 

Each year continued much like the one before until they reached middle school.  Middle school was that painful time in every child’s life where they discovered things called hormones that drove everyone certifiably looney.  It’s when the weirdest things started to get your attention, things that didn’t matter before but suddenly seemed like the only thing that you could pay attention to in life.

For example, he’d noticed before that Jean’s eyes were a nice golden color, like honey.  There wasn’t really a color in his box of crayolas that matched it and it frustrated him when he tried to draw his best friend.  Now?  Yeah, now he noticed that Jean’s eyes were a spectrum of different shades of amber, gold, green and brown; broken down into fragments like shards of colored glass.  He used watercolors, oils, acrylics, pencils and still didn’t manage to capture them just how he saw them.  He could also never manage to draw the way they caught the light at certain angles, or the way objects would reflect off their smooth surface.

At first he would show Jean the drawings he had made proudly and they would both laugh at their crudeness.  Jean always told him he was really good and if he kept improving the way he was going, he was going to be as famous as Michelangelo one day.  Marco’s drawing and painting did improve significantly, but he started to feel embarrassed about the excessive amounts of drawings he had of Jean.  Rather than rushing to show them to him, now he hid them away and showed him random work instead.  Luckily, much to Marco’s relief, Jean never brought it up.

Another thing that changed was their height.  They’d both gone through massive growth spurts it seemed like magically over the summer of seventh grade.  Both had been stretched out to their limits, and somehow that changed their height order.  Jean had always been the taller of the two, but now Marco had Jean beat by a few inches.  It had Jean constantly glaring up at him as if silently asking ‘how?’, but Marco found it cute so he just smiled.  Jean had always been a pudgy child but now he’d transformed from the meaty child he’d been to a lean slightly muscular frame that had Marco staring more often than he cared to admit.  He’d taken up soccer, so it made sense, but Marco hadn’t really noticed a big difference during the school year.  It wasn’t until Jean had gone away for the summer as was usual and then he’d returned and oh my god, Marco had a hard time even forming sentences around him.

He found it very confusing why he would suddenly be so nervous around Jean.  They’d been friends for years, nothing had really changed.  He mentally dismissed it chalking up his confusion to puberty and… maybe he was just going through a phase.  That’s what adults called these kinds of things, right?  A phase.  He’d outgrow it.

He didn’t outgrow it.  Things just got progressively worse when he noticed how all the girls would giggle around Jean, trying to be cute enough for him to notice them.  This was the year in which they got more daring, wearing make-up, skimpier clothing and having no concept of shame or personal space.  Jean ended up being a really good soccer player too, taking his team to the finals that year.  Of course with that he became increasingly popular, and had a lot of kids demanding more and more of his attention and time, boys and girls alike.  Jean was bombarded with attention he wasn’t used to having and it changed him a little. 

Marco tried to be happy for his friend, he really did.  It was only fair after all the teasing he’d had to endure during their elementary school years.  He rationalized his jealousy because Jean was spending less and less time with him now.  It only made sense.  So they weren’t spending all their time together, they weren’t over at each other’s houses all the time.  So they weren’t walking home together to Marcos’ house every day after school now, his driver (because it was a driver now, not a nanny) waiting for them in Marco’s driveway.  How would that be fair to Jean?  It wasn’t right for him to monopolize all his time.  It wasn’t fair.

He tried to get over himself.  It’s not like he could control Jean’s life, only his own.  So he decided to focus on himself.  Now he’d have more time to work on his drawings.  He’d improve so much Jean would be gushing endlessly over his latest creations.  That backfired when he realized the only thing he ended up ever drawing was his stupid best friend over and over.  When the frustration became too much, he put everything that had to do with drawing away in a box and shoved it into his closet.  Instead he buried himself in his school work, trying not to think about how Jean was probably at yet another party that weekend and wouldn’t have time to spend with him. 

He didn’t want to let Jean go, but there was nothing he could do.  Marco started to retreat into himself, not willing to face what he considered an empty life without his best friend.  He wallowed in his depression, thinking over and over that things couldn’t possibly get any worse.

He would learn the hard way that things could always get worse. 

 

\---

 

One day in the beginning of June, Marco walked home by himself from school as he always did now.  He wasn’t in any particular hurry, what was the point really?  Memorial weekend had come and gone and it didn’t matter to him this year because what difference would Jean being gone for the summer make this year?  That’s right, none.  He trudged slowly, kicking rocks or anything that came in his way.  He knew he was being childish and he should talk things out with Jean, but his stupid pride always got in the way.  It told him that Jean should just _know_ , that Jean shouldn’t be letting this rift come between them.  But in the end he did nothing because, more than anything, he really hated confrontations.  He was scared that things would go horribly wrong.  What if Jean told him he didn’t even care about their friendship anymore and that he wanted to be left alone?  He worried about that a lot every single day, and that’s ultimately why he didn’t say anything.  He didn’t want to be told it was over.  At least this way he could still hope, he could keep lying to himself.

He arrived at his house and found it strangely locked.  He took out his key and when he walked in he noticed it was unusually quiet.  He didn’t think anything of it at first, he figured his mom must have gone grocery shopping.  She usually had that done before it was time for him to be home, but maybe she’d forgotten something.  He wandered into the kitchen looking for a note or something that might tell him what was going on, but found nothing.  He wandered into the laundry room and found that it was empty, left in a state of disarray.  Someone, presumably his mom, had been folding laundry as per usual, but it was only half done and the drier door was wide open, still half full with articles of clothing.  

A shiver ran down his spine.  His mother was very organized and would not leave things this way.  No note, no explanation that he could see.  Something was wrong, really wrong.  He grabbed a snack from the refrigerator and went up to his room.  He worked on his homework, willing the minutes to pass until his mom came home, or he at least could find out what happened.

Around dinnertime, he was sitting in front of the TV in the living room when suddenly his old babysitter Mina let herself in the front door.  She obviously had a key because he’d left the door locked.  His mother must have sent her over.  She came right over to him and pulled him into her arms.

“Oh, sweetie!” she sniffled, burying her face in his hair and sobbing openly.

“What’s going on?” he asked with a shaky voice, his body filling with dread.

She pulled back to look at him straight in the eye, her hands clutching his shoulders.

“Marco… your daddy had an accident at work today,” she half-choked half-whispered.  Her eyes filled with tears as soon as she said it, as if she was realizing what had happened all over again.

“What?” he almost couldn’t speak.  His chest felt tight and it was really hard to breathe all of a sudden. 

She didn’t say anything, maybe she couldn’t.  Instead she pulled him back into a tight hug rubbing his back consolably.

His eyes stung and suddenly he was angry at everyone. 

“I want to see him!  And my mom too!  Where’s my mom?  Why isn’t she here?”

She wiped her tears away and tried to control herself enough to give him the information he needed, though she was still hiccupping between words.

“She’s at the hospital with him, waiting to see what the doctors say.  She promised she would be back as soon as she’s able.”

“But… I want to be there too then!”

“I’m so sorry, honey, they won’t let you stay there.  You have to be brave and strong for your mommy.  You have to wait here until she comes home, ok?  She’ll be here as soon as she can.  Please don’t make this harder for her.  Please?”

He couldn’t hold the flood gates back anymore.  He let Mina hug him and rub his back as he cried uncontrollably. 

 

\---

 

 

Sometime in the early morning hours, his mother finally came home.  She woke him up gently and held him until morning. 

His father would not be coming home.

 

\---

 

His mother wanted him to stay home that day.  She said they both needed time to grieve.  Marco understood that, it made sense, but… he needed to see Jean.  He needed to let him know what was going on, he needed Jean to listen to him, to hear his anguish.  All he wanted was to let him know.  It would make him feel better.   That’s all he wanted.  In the end his mother let him have his way. 

Marco walked around like a zombie at school all day.  He knew he looked like shit and people were giving him weird looks.  They couldn’t know what was going on though.  There hadn’t been enough time for the rumors to spread, so they must be judging his appearance.  Typical, he scoffed. 

Towards the end of the day he slammed his locker shut in frustration.  Jean had been nowhere to be found.  Even though they didn’t really hang out anymore like they used to, Marco always managed to see him at least in passing.  He thought he’d at least catch him after their math class, since they had the same teacher, same period.  But apparently he’d ditched.  He knew for a fact Jean was at school because he’d asked a couple of his other friends and they confirmed that they’d seen him.  So, what?  Was he avoiding him now too?  He tried not to let himself get irrationally angry.  The circumstances were making the situation worse, that’s all.  Jean’s not doing this on purpose.

He walked over to the soccer field because he knew Jean hung out there sometimes with the team.  It was the last place he could think of to look, and he was almost always there without fail.  When he got to the bleachers he was disappointed again when all the team was there minus Jean.  He approached them anyway.  This was probably his last chance to find him today, so he swallowed his pride.

“Hey, guys,” he said tentatively.  They all turned to look at him, some looking a little concerned, some glaring at him for daring to interrupt them.

“Marco, are you ok?” his only other friend on the soccer team, Jay, left the group to talk to him.  He seemed really concerned.

“Not really,” Marco began.  “But I’m not really up to talking about it yet.  Do you know where Jean might be?”  He hoped he didn’t sound like too much of a dick brushing off Jay’s concern.

Jay however, seemed to understand that Marco needed his best friend right now. 

“Yeah… but…”

“But _what_?” Marco asked starting to feel irritated despite it not being Jay’s fault.

Jay sighed heavily, looking towards the direction of the gym.

“Look,” he hesitated.  “He’s not alone ok.”

Ew.  Ok, Jean would understand if he interrupted whatever make-out session he had going on with some random skank.  Marco was sure of it. 

“Thanks man,” he said with as much gratitude as he could muster up.

“No problem,” Jay answered sheepishly and then walked back over to his group of friends.

 

\---

 

Marco rushed home as fast he could, tears burning his eyes, but why he was even upset didn’t make sense.  At least not to himself.  Jean was popular; of course he’d be with somebody.  Weren’t there always other kids hanging off his every word, clinging to him like their very being depended on it?  He thought he’d be able to brush it off, thought he’d be able to walk right up to him and demand his attention.  They were best friends, dammit!  But he had frozen.  He couldn’t do anything.

Worse yet, he couldn’t get the image of them out of his head.  No matter what he looked at all he saw was their tangle of limbs, their bodies pressed closely together and their faces contorted with pleasure.  His stomach had dropped at the first sight of them.  All he could think about was getting out of there and as quickly as possible.  He felt like he was going to vomit any second.  He hadn’t even turned back when he’d heard Jean call his name.

When he finally got home, he went straight up to his room and locked himself in.  His mother was too busy handling their father’s affairs to notice.  He was glad.  He didn’t want to burden her with his stupid problems anyway.  He threw his backpack in the closet and dropped onto his bed. 

Now.  Now he could let himself fall apart.  Everything was destroyed anyway, what did it matter what he did?  His father was gone.  His family would never be complete again.  His mother didn’t work, so he didn’t even know what they were going to do for money.  And to top it all off, he had no best friend.  Maybe he did at one point, but that had managed to slip through his fingers as well.  If he and Jean were really best friends, he would have told him.  Hell, if he and Jean had been any kind of friends at all, he would have told him.

Jean was not his friend.  He’d shut him out, slowly but surely.  He’d pulled away from him, slowly abandoned him and left him wondering what had happened.  If it hadn’t been for Jay, he probably still wouldn’t know.

 

He never wanted to see Jean again. 

 

Him or his stupid boyfriend.

 

\---

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (whispers in your ear~ sorry...)


	4. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things keep changing in Marco's life and there's nothing he can do about it. But what about Jean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marco's such a nice guy, I think we all just want him to be happy.  
> But life just won't leave him alone.

* * *

 

Marco spent the last few days of school at home shut up in his room.  He didn’t want to see anyone and he figured if all they wanted was to give him their condolences they could do so at the funeral that Friday.  His mother turned away anyone that came looking for him explaining that he needed time.  She’d tell him later when she brought him his dinner exactly who had come by.  It was never Jean.  He decided it was for the best.  Jean would be leaving that same weekend anyway.  He and his family would be off somewhere beautiful with white sandy beaches, pristine blue water and cool palm trees swaying ever so slightly in the warm breeze.  Why would Jean want to burden himself with someone else’s problems?  He had nothing but fun ahead of him.  Could he really blame him?

Despite the fact that he felt Jean had let him down, Marco found himself justifying the tawny haired kid’s actions.  Was it really his fault?  Jean was young, he’d suddenly become popular after years of relentless teasing.  On top of that it turned out he liked boys, something Marco himself was just recently beginning to wonder about himself.  Add that to the fact that they were just hit with puberty in full force, well that was enough to confuse any kid, and it was easy to explain his former friend’s actions away.  Maybe once everything settled down, once summer had passed and he had time to get over it, he’d be able to look at Jean as a friend again. 

Maybe not his _best_ friend anymore, but still a friend. 

Maybe.

 

\---

Friday:

It was hot, it was humid, it was bright outside and he was roasting in his black suit, drenched in his own sweat.  He was sure he’d have passed out from heat stroke if it hadn’t been for the canopy overhead blocking the sun’s rays and bringing a miniscule amount of relief.  There was no rain, there were no umbrellas, there was not a cloud in the sky.  Most people were wearing hats and sunglasses to fight the intense burning glare of the midday sun.  Everyone had some kind of makeshift fan noisily flapping to and fro in their hands. 

This was not the way Marco had pictured a funeral at all. 

Marco had imagined the funeral would be a small affair, with their small family and only a handful of his father’s friends.  It felt strange to him that this many people felt close enough to his father that they made time to attend.  Their family was small, with only his aunt (his mother’s sister), and his dad’s mother, grandma Caroline.  They had flown in as soon as they could and were currently staying in the house with them, helping as much as they could.  Most of the other guests were his father’s former co-workers and fellow church goers. 

Marco himself hadn’t really seen a lot of his father.  He’d been a reserved man who had always been away at work and was often away for weeks at a time on business trips.  The time he did spend at home, he was always occupied with something or other having to do with those confounded machines he was in charge of keeping in working order.  He listened to those close to his father share their favorite memories of him and recount things he’d used to do or things he’d say and it made Marco mourn in an entirely different manner.  He didn’t get to know this side of the man like they had, and now he never would. 

He tried to block out the sound of wailing and sniffling all around him.  He tried to pay attention to the service but found he couldn’t.  If you asked him later what was said, he honestly wouldn’t be able to say.  All he could focus on was his father in that box.  He hoped he was at peace, wherever he was.

His time there passed by in a haze and before he knew it he was given a rose to place on top of the casket.  When they started to lower him into the ground, the small crowd began to disperse.  Only his mother and a few of their closest friends stayed until the very end.  He stood by the fresh dirt where his father now rested.  He didn’t even notice anyone approach him and jumped when he saw Jean suddenly lower a rose onto the fresh dirt.  He turned hesitantly to look at his former friend.  Jean stood awkwardly, looking at him as well, but said nothing.  His eyes were irritated, possibly from crying.  He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite find the words.  Marco wanted to think he felt guilty, maybe even regret.  But he was disappointed when his body language suggested he was more like… angry.  His brows were furrowed and his eyes glistened with frustration.

How dare he?  Marco’s gaze turned into an indignant glare. 

He stood there, staring Jean down, silently daring him to say something. Anything.  He wanted Jean to explain himself, explain why things had changed between them.  Why he wasn’t there when he’d needed him.  Why he suddenly wasn’t good enough to be his friend anymore.  Why he couldn’t be man enough to at least let him know he didn’t want him in his life anymore.  He wanted the answers to all these questions, but at the same time he hoped his former friend wouldn’t say anything because he knew no matter what Jean said, it wouldn’t be good enough.  All the pent up frustration, all the resentment, all the disappointment, all the anger he’d been feeling would come pouring out and he’d end up saying things he’d regret.  He didn’t really want to, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.  He was beyond being able to control how he felt right then.  He was going to explode with all the nervous tension.

It was anticlimactic when their respective mothers came over and informed them that they were leaving. 

Jean turned his gaze to the ground and said quietly, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Then he turned and left.

Marco stared after him, trembling with unspent adrenaline.

“Stupid jerk,” he uttered under his breath.

 

\---

 

The gathering at his house after the funeral had been quiet and uneventful.  Everyone had been polite and comforting to the best of their abilities, he supposed.  Some of his mother’s closest friends had stayed well into the evening, helping her out with cleaning up and dinner.  He’d spent the rest of that evening in his room, resting and thinking about their uncertain future.  He wondered what would happen with his summer vacation now.  He was already enrolled into various summer activity camps because that had to be done well in advance because it would get full really quick.  He felt guilty about leaving his mother alone during that time and hoped she would cancel it.

He tried not to think about Jean, but he couldn’t help it.  Jean would be leaving Sunday.  Their friendship was as good as done.  He felt helpless to do anything about it, so he resigned himself to the idea.  He had other friends, just not as close as Jean had been.  Also, they’d be entering High School in the fall.  They would meet a lot of new people and probably hang out in different circles.  Jean had managed to get by their last year of middle school with minimal contact with him, so he imagined it would be infinitely easier for him to do the same in ninth grade and so on.

Maybe it was for the best, he kept telling himself. 

 

\---

Saturday:

After breakfast, he spent the whole day cleaning with his mother and aunt.  She wanted to get everything organized and get rid of anything they didn’t need, like a late spring cleaning.  Once again, her friends came over and helped out.  It wasn’t until Marco questioned why they were boxing some of their things up that his mother told him they needed to talk later.

He started to worry when she made his favorite, pot roast with mashed potatoes and gravy. 

They ate in relative silence, his mother mostly pushing her food around on her plate than doing any actual eating.  His aunt and grandmother had gone out to eat since she wanted to speak privately with him. 

“What’s going on, mom?” he finally asked impatiently.

She gave him a sharp look that told him she’d have none of his sass, but then it softened almost immediately.  She sighed and ruffled his hair, trying to organize her thoughts.

“I’m pregnant,” she started and waited for him to absorb the information.

Marco was dumbstruck.  He was going to have a little brother or sister?  He was definitely happy, but at the same time… his sibling was going to grow up never having known their father.  His father had passed on without getting to see his new child.

“Did…” he wanted to know, but it was hard to ask.  “Did dad know?”

“Yes,” his mother whispered.  He could hear the wavering in her voice.  “He was happy and excited.”

Good, he thought.  At least he’d known. How were they going to get by, though?  He thought it was going to be hard enough for his mom to be a single mother and now pregnant too?  He couldn’t imagine how it could ever work out.

“What are we going to do?” he asked quietly, chewing on his lower lip nervously.

“Well,” she sighed heavily, trying to gather strength.  “Luckily, your father did have life insurance through his job, so we’re not out on the street, don’t worry about that.” 

Marco let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.  Thank goodness for that at least.

“But there’s no way I can take care of both you and a new baby by myself,” she continued.  “At least not the way I’d like.  Your grandma Caroline has asked if we could move in with her.  I said yes.”

Marco’s heart stopped.  Grandma Caroline lived in California.  That meant he would be moving to the other side of the continent.  He might never see Jean again.

“Oh,” he said quietly.  “When?”

“As soon as we can, hopefully,” she said.  “But definitely by the end of the month.  I already notified the owner so they can find a new tenant.”

Marco turned his attention to the food on his plate, not daring to look at his mother.  He couldn’t breathe.  They were leaving this month.  He couldn’t think.  Jean would be leaving tomorrow.  This was it.  It was over.  He felt like bolting out of his chair and running to Jean’s house to let him know.  He wanted to see Jean, he wanted to spend every minute he could with him while he was able.  But… he stayed put because he was hesitating.  His brain was telling him that he’d felt this way before.  And it had only brought him disappointment. 

Would Jean even care?

Probably not.

He felt a tear escape his eye and slowly roll down his cheek into his food plate.

His mother’s arms were around him quickly.  She whispered that she was sorry and everything would work out over and over.  He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault- that he understood.  But he couldn’t talk.  All he could do was sniffle and try to force his tears to stop from falling.  She told him Jean wouldn’t be leaving until Sunday evening, so he could spend the whole day with him if he wanted.  He said okay so she wouldn’t worry.  But he had no intention of doing so.

 

\---

 

Sunday:

Marco ate as much of his lunch as he could before heading out.  His mother thought he was going to meet up somewhere with Jean, but he didn’t want to see him.  He decided to find a place to hang out until it was late enough to come home.  Hopefully she wouldn’t notice.  And well, if she did it would be too late for her to do anything about it.  He’d just have to cross that bridge when he got to it. 

He went out for a walk, not really sure where he would end up.  There was only so much staring at fish at the park before even that got boring, so he headed to the nearest shopping center and decided to watch a movie.  Since he didn’t have an accompanying adult, he ended up watching a kid’s movie.  He found himself paying more attention than he normally would to the kids in the theater.  He wondered what it would be like to have a little brother or sister.  They would be really loud and full of seemingly limitless energy, that was for sure.  He smiled at the thought. 

After the movie, he wasn’t really sure where to go anymore.  It’s not like there were a lot of places for kids his age to hang out in when they didn’t want to be found.  He was wandering again when he passed by his old elementary school.  He decided to hang out in the playground for a while and possibly use the swings as much as he wanted to until he had swung to his heart’s content.  He remembered having to take turns when they’d been students there.  It felt kind of weird knowing he was breaking the ‘rules.’  Man he felt like such a dork.

He was swinging as high as he could being a ridiculous human being when he realized the swings were right in front of the very classroom where he’d met Jean.  He let the swing come to a stop and then headed over to the room.  He looked inside the window, trying to make out the inside of the room.  It was a little hard to see because it was dark, but he could kind of make out the tiny desks, chairs and bookshelves.  Had they really been that small?  It felt like a lifetime ago now.  He chuckled when he imagined what he would look like now if he tried to sit at his old desk.  He’d probably get stuck.

He wondered if the Cafeteria would be open and turned to head that way.  He came to an abrupt halt when he almost ran into a certain tawny haired kid he was avoiding.

“Jean?” he whispered to himself.

“Hey,” Jean said awkwardly lowering his gaze to his shoes.  “Do you think we can talk?  Please?”

He stared up at Marco with those honey colored eyes he’d always been thinking about.  Until lately, that is.

“About what?” Marco asked, turning his gaze away.

Jean gave a humorless chuckle.

“I fucked up.  Ok?  I know.”

Marco didn’t want to talk about this right now.  Why couldn’t he have said anything before?  Why now?  It didn’t matter now.

“It’s fine,” he said as evenly as he could.

Jean glared at him.

“No, Marco it’s not fine!  If you’re not going to take me seriously then-”

“It’s fine, ok!” Marco bit out.  Jean looked stricken.  Marco had never raised his voice or spoken harshly to him that he could remember.  But he couldn’t handle this right now.  He just wanted to leave.  “I get it.  You’re leaving tomorrow, so you don’t want any bad feelings to ruin your vacation.  It’s fine, Jean.  Don’t worry about me, I’ll be ok.  So… enjoy yourself.”

Marco turned to walk away but Jean grabbed his arm.

“At least listen to me!  Please?  If you still want to leave after, then that’s fine.  But please, let me just explain.”

“You’ve barely spoken to me the whole year and you want me to listen now?” Jean flinched.  “Fine, I’ll listen.  It won’t change anything, but I’ll listen to you Jean.”

Marco leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed.

“I didn’t mean to stop talking to you,” Jean started.  At least he sounds remorseful, Marco thought.  “Everything just happened so fast.  Everybody started looking at me differently.  It was weird.  I tried to brush it off, but there’s so much pressure.  Pressure from the other kids, that doesn’t concern me at all.  It’s the kids on the soccer team… I really like soccer and I’m pretty good at it.  I guess I let them influence me more than I should have.”

Marco rolled his eyes.  That wasn’t anything new to him.

“At the same time, I started to notice… that I like guys.  And I got scared.  I was scared that you’d hate me and you wouldn’t talk to me anymore.  I guess I decided to beat you to the punch.”

“What?  Why?  You can’t help who you like Jean.”

Jean looked really confused.  “But Marco.  Your family goes to church every Sunday…”

“So?”

“So?!” Jean was giving him an incredulous look.  “Isn’t it against your religion or something to be friends with me?”

“What?!” Marco exclaimed.  He wasn’t sure.  Was it?  “That doesn’t sound right.  But even if it is true, it wouldn’t matter to me.  I don’t care if you’re gay Jean.  You’re my friend.  Or… at least you were...?”

“That day in the locker room,” he said nervously.  “I found out later that same day about your dad.  I ran to your house, but I couldn’t make myself knock on your door.  I was too scared of what you’d say to me.”

Marco’s eyes widened.  Jean had gone to his house?  He had been there after all?

“I went every day after that too.  But I was too big of a coward. I’m sorry.”

Marco felt like a big weight had been lifted off his shoulders.  His eyes stung and he was afraid he was going to cry in front of his best friend like a wuss.

“It’s fine,” he chuckled.  “Didn’t I say it was fine, you big dummy?”

Jean visibly relaxed in front of him.  “I can cancel my vacation if you want Marco.  We can hang out all summer if you want to.  Just you and me.  What do you say?”

Marco looked Jean in the eyes; he looked so hopeful and happy.  It made his chest ache.  It was his turn to lower his gaze to his shoes.

“I said I’d listen to you, Jean,” he said slowly.  “But also I told you it didn’t matter anyway.”

“So, you _don’t_ forgive me?  I mean… I guess I can understand.  I was really a dick.  I-”

“We’re moving to California,” Marco blurted out before Jean could continue berating himself.  “So, it doesn’t matter.”

Jean gaped at him, his face full of confusion. 

“I’m sorry, Jean,” Marco didn’t know what else to say, so he turned and left.

* * *

 


	5. True Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco gets an unexpected surprise.

* * *

Monday:

 

Jean left the previous night.  He’d be gone the whole summer as always. 

Unlike all other summers, Marco wouldn’t be here anxiously waiting for the end of summer, nervously biting his finger nails until the day he would hear from his mother that his friend was home again.  Sometimes he hadn’t even needed for her to say anything.  The mischievous smile playing on her lips and the way her teasing eyes sparkled were enough to let Marco know his days of loneliness were over.  One look at her in this state had him bolting for the telephone, fumbling over his own fingers trying desperately to dial his tawny haired friend’s familiar number.  He always thought back then that maybe just hearing Jean’s voice, just knowing he was home and within reach would be enough.  But it never was.  Marco was never at peace until he could see Jean with his own eyes again and give him a lingering welcome back hug full of relief (on his part anyway).  

The freckled boy sighed deeply, trying to think of something besides the pain he felt in his heart.  Those memories…  They were bothering him right now.  It hurt to think about it, but at the same time he couldn’t help it.  He wanted to remember all of them with as much detail as he could and hopefully that would make them last longer.  He wanted to carve homes for them in his brain so that he would never lose them because that was probably the last thing he would have to remember his best friend Jean by.  Jean was gone and soon Marco would also be gone.  They wouldn’t be seeing each other again anytime soon. 

Maybe not ever. 

It was the first official day of summer vacation, Marco had woken up with the first rays of the sun but he had no motivation to get out of bed whatsoever.  He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, playing the previous day in his head over and over, ruthlessly berating himself.  Why did he have to push Jean away?  They could have enjoyed their last day together, they’d made up hadn’t they?  But no, Marco was hurting and he’d wanted to make Jean hurt too.  Congratulations.  Mission accomplished and now he could mope around all day and suck it.

His mother had asked how his day with Jean had gone and he’d evaded the question saying they’d mostly talked.  She had just nodded and given him a hug.  He was happy she didn’t try and give him that ‘you’ll make new friends’ speech, because that would really not be helpful at all.  Instead she said he could always write to him.  He’d smiled and said maybe.  It wasn’t her fault.  She didn’t know.  Jean hated written correspondence with a passion.  He might try at first; actually make some kind of effort.  It might even be cute and include photographs and drawings.  But he knew Jean.  The intervals between letters would get longer and longer and then one day, he’d be lucky to get anything at all.  He really didn’t want to go through that.  Feeling a false sense of hope when, really there _was_ none.  In the end it wouldn’t matter, it would honestly just make things worse. They’d drift apart all the same, it would just be a slower lingering death to their relationship.  It was something he couldn’t imagine being able to endure, so it had been best to cut all ties.  Nice and clean. 

It really was for the best, he kept telling himself. 

It was early in the morning and it was already starting to get hot and humid.  The sun had intruded upon the sanctuary of his room what seemed like moments ago and now it was staring at him angrily in the face.  He moved his head to a different position on the pillow, trying to find a cooler spot, but soon that was also unbearably hot.   He groaned out loud when he felt the beads of sweat start to form on his forehead.  Had he mentioned how much he hated summer?  He wondered what summer would be like in California.  It was a freaking desert from what he’d seen, so he expected everyday would be like today if not worse.  His mom had said it would be different because it was a dry heat.  He wasn’t sure what that meant.  Heat was heat and he was one hundred percent sure he would loathe it just the same.  What a pain. 

He pushed the sheets off himself angrily using his feet.  His mother chose that time to peek in and saw that he was awake. 

“Breakfast will be ready soon,” she said giving him a questioning look.

He shot up immediately, “I’ll be right down.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.  Marco fidgeted with his sleep shirt hem, his actions filled with the guilt he couldn’t properly express.  He was almost sure his mother was going to give him some kind of lengthy lecture, but instead she just smiled and shook her head.  He usually didn’t need any prodding to get out of bed and get ready.  He was usually already dressed and downstairs before his mother even started cooking.  The freckled boy mentally chastised himself.  He shouldn’t be making his mother worry like this.  She had enough problems to deal with and was pregnant on top of everything else.  Instead of being helpful and supportive he was being a whiny douche and he couldn’t stand himself.

The thing that took the longest was deciding what to wear.  What clothes wouldn’t make him feel like candles were melting on his skin in the middle of the day?  Tough choice, but in the end he went with khaki cargo shorts and a navy blue cotton tank top.  He showered quickly and ran downstairs before his mother had to come looking for him again.  In hindsight, that might not have been the best idea.  The exercise made him sweaty almost right away, entirely defeating the purpose of his shower. 

He bolted into the kitchen and plopped himself down onto his chair before his mother had a chance to say something about him being late.  Of course, the guilt was too much so he opened his mouth to apologize profusely. 

But nothing came out. 

The words died in his mouth when he saw his mother had company other than his aunt and grandmother this morning.  Marco’s eyes widened.  This could not be happening.  He was obviously still asleep.  No wonder the sun had seemed a little too bright and had made everything seem fuzzy in his room.  This sepia tinted morning was a little _too_ fabricated, it couldn’t possibly be real.  It was a dream.  He was still asleep. 

He was, wasn’t he?

“Took you long enough,” his tawny haired best friend scolded from the other side of the island stovetop.  He was helping keep an eye on the pancakes, making sure to flip them when they were perfectly golden brown.  He looked up at Marco, his eyes full of uncertainty. 

Marco was gaping, and that apology he had previously intended to deliver to his mother was dead in his mouth before it ever got the chance to be uttered. 

“Jean?” he finally whimpered out. 

He hated the way his voice sounded.  He wasn’t a kid anymore!  He should be better able to keep his emotions in check.  So what if his best friend whom he’d been pouting over all morning was right here now in his kitchen?  And making him breakfast no less.  Whatever had gone wrong in the world while he’d been sleeping to make such a thing possible could continue going wrong as far as he was concerned.  The idea of Jean making him breakfast made his little heart flutter in his chest.

Marco couldn’t really say much since his mother, aunt and grandmother were all staring back and forth between the two boys like they were glass figurines in a curio cabinet.  He was already a somewhat nervous and shy boy by nature, the weight of their stares made him feel even more self-conscious than usual.  He hung his head over his table setting and shrank into himself as much as he could, hoping to make himself small enough to where they wouldn’t notice him.  Small enough to where they wouldn’t see the tint of red on his cheeks and ears. 

His mother was the one to finally break the awkward silence.

“Jean was kind enough to help us with our move,” she said sending a wide smile to Jean who was having difficulty with a particularly large pancake he was trying to flip.  He perked up when he heard his name, giving Marco a tentative lopsided smile.  Marco was too nervous to offer him more than a smile shy smile in return.  He felt stupid for even feeling this way.  They’d been friends for years.  What was wrong with him?  “He volunteered to help box things up… and also to keep an eye on you.”

“What about his vacation?” Marco finally asked, feeling like a coward because he couldn’t address his own friend directly.

“My parents let me stay here to help you move,” Jean answered nervously.  “I’ll be joining them afterwards.”

“Oh,” Marco said simply. 

He wondered if Jean could tell, if Jean could notice that the lack of action or emotion he was displaying on the outside was absolutely no reflection of what was going on inside him.  Inside he was so ridiculously happy and having so many feels he literally felt like barfing rainbows.  Jean had stayed… for _him_.  He’d given up part of his vacation with his family to spend time with _him_. 

“Jean, go sit down honey,” Marco’s mom ordered once breakfast was ready. 

Jean slowly trudged over to the table.  He slowly walked around Marco’s chair, ruffling his hair a little before he sat down on the chair right next to him.  It was the only seat available, so it made sense.  Marco was almost positive his mother and the others had planned it this way the whole time.  When his mother got busy serving everyone and the others started to buzz with their usual morning gossip, Marco decided to steal a glance at Jean.  He reached over for the pancake syrup, hoping he’d be able to do this unnoticed.  But when he looked up, he found Jean was already gazing at him.  He wasn’t sure what happened, because he wasn’t normally like this.  Normally if something was embarrassing to him, he’d get all flustered and look away immediately.  But not this time.

Looking into Jean’s eyes, he saw a bit of the sadness, a small piece of the hopelessness he’d been feeling all school year and it felt so wrong, so out of place.  That look didn’t belong to Jean, Jean wasn’t like this.  His friend was always happy, confident and self-assured.  Marco found it hard to ignore the other boy and look away, and how could he when his friend looked so down?  He absolutely could not, so instead he smiled fondly and whispered a simple ‘thank you.’  Nothing else was needed, there was no need to elaborate.  Marco knew Jean got the full message when he saw his friend’s dimpled smile and the light return to his yellow topaz eyes before he turned away shyly and lowered his gaze to his plate.  Just like that, everything was right in the world again. 

The boys ate their breakfast of bacon, eggs and pancakes in a relative kind of peace.  Jean and Marco remained mostly silent while the women all made a big deal of Jean giving up part of his vacation to help out.  It seemed they would never tire of praising his selflessness and his obvious dedication to his friendship with Marco.  This in turn made Jean blush all kinds of shades of pink.  Marco tried to save him from any additional embarrassment by pretending not to notice, but he secretly stole glances at him and committed each variation of Jean’s flustered face to memory. 

 

There was no way he wanted to forget this day anytime soon.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's happened.  
> I have a little bit of writer's block smh. I had half a chapter written and just kept staring at it, so I decided that's better than nothing for now.  
> Now that the temperature is cooling down, it will be easier for me to think and continue.
> 
> *rolls on the floor in shame*

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I don't know how long this will be, I'm just winging it. But hopefully I will get this out fast enough so it won't conflict with the timeline of the main story.
> 
> Let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions!  
> ^.^


End file.
